My horrible Mary Sue
by Grungemaiden
Summary: Yes, indeed, it is horrible, and it is a 'Sue. I feel bad, but cannot stop myself.


Note to self: This never happened.  
  
Disclaimer: Much as I or any girl would probably like to own Pirates of the Caribbean, it is, in fact, a fictional story that is copyright Disney.  
  
I apologise for the 'Sue-y nature of this fic... -_-;;; however, I beg thee to take into account that I *know* it is a Sue... And I do apologise, from the depths of my weasely black soul. This is appalling, wanton sueage. :hangs head: I strongly suspect the fact I often write parody 'Sues affected some aspects of this. But hey, maybe someone'll enjoy it, I've got little enough pride to say that I enjoyed writing it. :)  
  
Many hugs Grungey  
  
(Oh, I filled out the 'Sue report for myself, it's at the end, I thought I'd at least save anyone the bother of reading this...^^;;;)  
  
Part One - Wenches and rum.  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow stood on a dock, which was, for all the world, not that an uncommon a thing for him to do, and stared adoringly at the i'Pearl,/i which was equally a fairly common occurrence. He smiled self- praisingly, this ship was his victory and a constant reminder of the fact that he was Captain Jack Sparrow. Which was, he felt, a pretty good thing to be right now.  
  
Occupied as he was in basking in his ship's glory, he was otherwise paying very little attention to the dock around him. Which might have struck most pirates as a serious failing, but then, this was Jack Sparrow. Which is why it was quite so much of a shock to him when something suddenly impacted with him from behind, about waist-height, and bore him to the ground.  
  
"What the hell is this?"  
  
"Oh Jack, surely I merit a little more definition than 'this?'" Unhealthily like his own voice, if marginally higher.  
  
He rolled his eyes as he lay on the dock, waiting for himself to recover from the winding he'd received. Which was made more difficult by the fact the weight hadn't moved. "Oh the horror, love, it's you. Well, I'd best be running for the seas at the terror that is a galley maid." iSmack/i, something distinctly harder than a hand impacted with the side of his face. "Oho," he pillowed his head on his forearms, still held down by his attacker "The maid's gone up in the world!"  
  
"And then, you'll notice, rapidly down again and seeing as you seem to be doing alright, Captain, I thought I might pay you a little visit. You see, I'm in a little bit of a mess right now."  
  
"That's nice, darlin', you were always full of yourself."  
  
"No Jack, dear, you owe me enough to do me some favours, savvy?"  
  
"That's uncanny, love. But then, I've always liked the sound of my own voice, keep talking." His back was starting to ache, but he wasn't going to satisfy her by trying to get up. "What happened to the 'Captain" bit, incidentally?"  
  
"I seem to remember I knew you when you didn't have that fine ship to massage your ego with, in fact, I seem to remember I knew you when you were just a rum-soaked, marooned Captain Jack Sparrow, awaiting retrieval, yes?" She shifted slightly so he was in more pain. It occurred to him that she was completely aware of this fact.  
  
"Ah, but you were the little lackey then, weren't you? So we were on equal footing, whereas now I have my ship back, and you have the pleasure of sitting on the back of her captain."  
  
"A fine back it is, I'm sure, but I'd rather be on the ship." She pretended to jerk in surprise, "My, now you mention it, this iis/i somewhat inappropriate. I'd best let you up."  
  
The weight lifted from him and he rolled into a stand, ignoring the hand she had offered. He stared out to sea, deliberately and clearly not looking at her. "Now why would I want a maid on my ship, hmm? Another woman'd probably kill me first mate."  
  
"Because I'm not a maid, -"  
  
"Alright then, wench. Why do I want some brine-swilling wench on my ship?"  
  
"You want me on your ship, love, because I seem to remember a certain smuggler wench buying a certain marooned rum-swilling pirate his passage off a certain godforsaken island," So the lass was fighting dirty.  
  
"Oh, you've got me now, then'." It was true, he had to concede, "My dear, I would've thought that by now it'd be obvious to you that I'm not an honest man, what makes you think I'd repay you your kindness?"  
  
Her voice was right by his ear. An unpleasant habit of scoundrels, that. "Because I know as well as you do that you're going to let me on that ship, so shall we move off this dock, poppet?"  
  
"Must be a great problem for you, lass, the short number of terms of endearment for males." He swaggered up the gangplank onto the iPearl,/i looking for all the world as though he was merely taking her on it to impress her.  
  
"It's never encumbered me greatly." The crew, he realised, was now staring at her. He glared at them a little, but they seemed disinterested in looking away. Sighing again, he reached behind him and grabbed her 'round the waist so her back was pressed against him, he was looking deliberately past her, still. "Alright, I'm taking this charming wench to my cabin," he doffed his hat mockingly "I'll see you fine gentlemen later. And you, Ana'." ignoring the laughter from his crew, he turned and propelled his captive down the ladder.  
  
He half-carried her down to his cabin, paying no more attention to her than he might a sack. When he arrived at his quarters, he dumped her down on the chair and seated himself on his bunk. "Alright now, miss, why do ye-" he finally looked at her "have on that get-up?" Her hair was still a tangled mass of dark waves, matted in places and fairly comprehensively covered in dirt. It was held off her face with what he strongly suspected was the same headscarf as the last time he had seen her, it was considerably rattier, but still an indeterminate red-brown. Made, in fact, from the end of his. Her skin was a lot darker than it had been eleven years ago, and small lines around her eyes marked her as having spent too much time staring into the sun. Kohl was loosely smudged around her eyes, although it had smeared over the rest of her face, too. Obviously she'd been leading a strenuous lifestyle recently, he remembered her as always keeping it immaculate before. Her clothes were as filthy as the rest of her, although that was no surprise, a cutlass was tucked into her belt and pistols hung either side of her waist. She was sitting with her legs akimbo, but then, she wasn't ladylike. She had changed her garb for a more masculine pair of trousers and a looser shirt, with a not-particularly-fitted leather tunic over all as opposed to the rather more flattering outfit she'd worn previously. She was also scowling deeply at him. "Didn't you used to be a woman?" Well, it explained the laughter earlier.  
  
"Probably. Look, we're not here to debate my gender-" He realised just ihow/i low her voice now was. While not mistakable for a man's, it was hardly the light, feminine lilt he had heard (through a haze of rum) bargaining for his life.  
  
"What the hell have you been doing, love? Last thing I heard about you, you'd got yourself your own ship, and were commiting unspeakable acts anywhere you could find to commit them. Quite a fall you've taken, if you're willing to beg passage here." He noted some of the stains on both her clothes and skin were old blood. "You don't look to have had the best time of it recently."  
  
"I'm not begging, I'm demanding. You haven't heard anything about me as such for awhile, because it's been quite some time since anyone's referred to me by the name 'Ariel.'" She resettled herself on the seat to a more respectable position, "Although you probably heard about 'Blackthorn.'" She paused, to let him digest that.  
  
"So, a presumptuous lass became one of the most feared pirates in the Caribbean. Told you you'd do well if you ever left that smuggling culk." He hadn't recalled her being exactly enthusiastic about the idea, though. She'd seemed to think pirates were something you sold rum to, or bedded (preferably after they let you have some of the rum they'd just paid for) as you saw fit, not a career option.  
  
"Nnn. The funny thing is, I would've never left that culk if it weren't for pirates." She seemed to give up on respectability, or forget it, returning to her original repose. "Bloody thing's at the bottom of the ocean somewhere, now. Good riddance, 'far as I'm concerned."  
  
"What happened to the crew? You weren't running it all on your onesy. Nor running it at all, 'far as I can remember, little maid-child." He noted with some satisfaction that her scowl had changed to exactly the same one he had known previously at the mention of his earlier name for her.  
  
"Don't call me that. And they hung the crew." She shrugged "Thought I was amusing, being dressed like a pirate and all, said I could walk the plank for a proper pirate death out in mid-ocean. Idiots also put the plank within jumping distance of a dinghy."  
  
"That's interesting. What ship was it, poppet?"  
  
"Don't really care. Not this one, if you're wondering. Right now, it's a wreck, as it has been for ten years or so. They kept too much gunpowder on board, just tempting people, it was." She smiled indulgently, savouring memories.  
  
"You got back on the ship and then blew it up? I approve. Except the blowing up bit, surely you could've used it?"  
  
"On my own? I doubt it. The blowing up thing didn't go as well as it might have, mind. I ended up with enough of it left to make a sail. Went off home to Tortuga and borrowed a ship there."  
  
"Bless you, love, you stole a pirate ship, and became Captain Blackthorn? That's an impressive feat, even for you."  
  
"I was always Blackthorn, dear. I just happened to do away with my first name at some point." She noticed his arched eyebrow but didn't offer further explanation.  
  
"Well, that all seems to follow. I told you the clothes and rum'd make you a pirate whether you thought you wanted to be or not." He prodded her leg with his foot "But what are you doing here now? I can't give you a ship, which I assume is what you're lacking if you're looking to be aboard someone else's."  
  
"Oh no, I have a ship."  
  
"Well why the devil are you in my cabin, then?"  
  
"Because my ship is somewhere entirely else. I just need you to take me to another port. Anywhere, doesn't matter if it's your first port of call or your last, so long as it aint here. Jack, listen to me when I say I am in a pit, you've had a mutiny under you, you know what it's like." She glared out the cabin window. "There aren't any ships I'd take here, only seems to be rotting scum and yours, and I don't think you'd forgive me too easily. just take me somewhere I can get a vessel from and I'll be off your ship and out of your hair."  
  
"They mutinied? Against Blackthorn? From what I'd heard, you have a habit of killing mutineers in a brutal and unladylike fashion and you put down three mutinies by offing your entire crew and drifting back to port." He could believe it, too. The pistols looked well-used.  
  
"Oh, aye. They're pirates, though. The harder it appears to be to do summat, the more they want to, savvy? The last crew... I shoulda known it weren't right to put that many women on board. They're so much more schemin' than men. Thought I'd give 'em a go, though, I mean, I'm a woman underneath it all. Somewhere." She spat.  
  
"Oi, that's my cabin you're defiling!"  
  
She waved a hand dismissively. "The bitches did worse. And to think I imagined women would be more honourable than men. Scum, the lot of them."  
  
"You didn't exactly have the best name, love, the kind of obscenities to civilisation you were getting up to weren't goin' to attract a nice crew, now were they?"  
  
"No. I've learned me lesson, no need to ram it home. Anyway, you're just as much a lunatic as Blackthorn." She frowned suddenly, "What the hell are you doing in this scum-port, anyway?"  
  
"Resupplying. It's as good as any for picking up water from, isn't it?" She grunted assent.  
  
"So, am I allowed on your fine vessel or not, Captain?"  
  
"It'd be rude not to, surely. Now, where are your little mutineers?" She looked suddenly surprised, a little of her attitude falling for a moment.  
  
"I only need to be taken to a port, I'll not have you saving me, Sparrow. Otherwise I'll have to avoid you for another eleven years."  
  
"Oh, but if you want to be on my ship, then you'll have to be under my orders, missy. I haven't got anything better to do, and from what I heard your ship's full of loot, is it not? Well, I find that a tempting enough offer."  
  
"I hate you."  
  
"You do insist on telling me that, don't you? I was right last time, why not trust me again?"  
  
Her scowl deepened even further, which had previously struck Jack as impossible. "I'll never trust you, Sparrow. And they were going to Tortuga. We can ask where they went after that."  
  
"Good girl." He patted her on the head. "Sometimes I think you'd make a good pirate, you know."  
  
*****  
  
Jack stood at the helm of the iPearl/i, seeming almost lazy as he steered the ship into Tortuga, a journey he had travelled uncountable times. The familiar relief at being back in Tortuga seeped into him, no matter how many more times her made the journey, he'd never lose his love of the rogue town.  
  
"Mmm... I smell it already."  
  
"D'you mind? I was just contemplatin' the beauty of that aroma, the promised delights of it's exotic savour. Bloody wench." He turned his full concentration back to steering the ship. He wasn't truly irked but the promise of being rid of Blackthorn was seeming tempting. She was as overbearing, rogueish and like him as he remembered, and the ship wasn't big enough for two lunatics. On the other hand, she was still the girl he'd known previously, still feisty and lazy at the same time, with rum for blood and pistols for love. Underneath it all, somewhere, he was certain she had alterior motives for being on his ship. The possibility was marginally unnerving. Still, a debt was a debt, she'd got him to a port, he'd take her to one.  
  
"Wench? Ah, now there's a fine suggestion... Tortuga's finest merchandise." He was certain she was female. She had been before, at least, and he supposed he had to be thankful for the fact she'd stopped scowling.  
  
"They don't want you if you aint got a beard, lad, they have older taste." He hummed happily to himself as he heard boots stalking away. Wenches were definitely on the agenda. Anything clearly female, clearly drunk, and clearly attractive would be welcome right now and rum, lots of rum.  
  
*****  
  
Captain Blackthorn drummed her fingers on the bar. This was the third she'd tried that night, and nobody seemed to know the whereabouts of her ship. Of course, the vast number of bars in Tortuga left her ample options, but she wasn't truly in any state to ask any more questions that night. She blinked enough to focus on the barman. "D'you have bottles here?" He answered affirmatively and she swayed out, carrying one such an item, filled with the strongest rum they'd had. She managed to make it to the docks, just about, and sat on a mooring post to see about her purchase. Admitedly, she'd already had quite a bit of the devil's drink that night, and was maybe feeling not the best for it, but that had never stopped her before. She was aiming to steal a ship, she needed to be truly drunk, she was fairly sure she could still walk at the minute.  
  
Footsteps close behind her made her spin 'round, much too fast given her state, allowing her to slide off the post and end up on the dock, on her back, giggling slightly. Fortunately, it seemed the approaching figure was in little better condition. "You always giggle like that after enough rum. 'Stonishing, I thought that'd be the first thing to go." Jack Sparrow half- fell down beside her.  
  
"Go 'way, I was gunna steal a ship."  
  
"Thought you migh' be. You don' need to, you know, I really haven' got anythin' better to do." He hicupped and offered her a lopsided grin.  
  
"Have you ever won'ered why it is that drink makes pirates tell t'truth and honest men lie?"  
  
"Not recently, love." His arm had sneaked around her waist somehow. "Were you this drunk last time?" She retaliated by swinging one leg over his lap. The man might be a lecher, but she was worse.  
  
"I think I was more so, actually, the night air's sobering me." It was true. She could very nearly see straight. "I still have a ship to steal, so if you'll excuse me-"  
  
"No you don't, love, I rather like having you on mine." She arched an eyebrow at him as he firmly pulled her back down to his lap, from the half- standing pose she'd reached. Suddenly both their faces straightened.  
  
"What sweet words are you speaking in my ear, fair sir? Surely this is not needless flattery to prevent me leaving you?"  
  
"Probably, love. You're a fellow captain, aren't you, and you've been mutinied, yes? So we're similar, I'd like to see your crew sink to the depths, I've no sympathy for mutineers." He absently toyed with an end of her hair. "Besides, you're as mad as me, you fit right in with the rest of the crew."  
  
"Jack, my aim is to get my ship back, I can't accomplish that while I'm on yours. Tempting though the offer is." It was true. Blackthorn liked Jack a lot. Enough that she hoped he never found out what her ship was called and that he hadn't noticed she still had that manky bit of his scarf on her head.  
  
"Well, dear, I don't think you're going to get yourself a ship in this state-"  
  
"'S'not true, I steal 'em better when I'm drunk."  
  
"Somehow I doubt that. I think you got drunk for an entirely different reason. How about we both try and walk off the fuzzy feeling? Doesn't do for two feared pirates to be so incapacitated." He had taken on a cajoling tone. "Besides, the dock's a terrible place to get drunk. Let's find a beach."  
  
She hesitated. She knew what this was, but then, she was hardly one to think about morals, and one more day here wouldn't make much difference, now would it? "You're a foul man, Sparrow." She leant on him once they were both upright, him using her as much for a prop in return.  
  
"And you, love, are the scummiest wench of scum that ever sailed the high seas. What a lovely pair we make." He swigged at his bottle, "And the rum just improves matters, doesn't it?"  
  
"Supposing slurring and staggering is an improvement, yes."  
  
"Oh, it is." He stumbled suddenly. "Whup, we're here."  
  
"Here" was a beach, small and deserted, the high tide lapping at the twenty feet or so of sand visible under the moonlight. "I'm surprised at you, Jack, this is nearly romantic." They staggered through the sand to a spot near the water's edge. "C'mon, let's finish this rum, for god's sake." She took a swig from her bottle and a trickle dribbled onto her front, which was already dirty with sand; suddenly, Sparrow took the bottle from her and examined it. "Oi, you've got yer own!"  
  
"Jus' checkin' you're really drinkin' it."  
  
"Eh? Why wouldn' I be?" She snatched back her rum and swigged again, for emphasis.  
  
"Nothin'..." He fell sideways onto the sand, propping himself up on an elbow as he messily gulped down more drink. She followed suit, getting a good mouthful of sand as she did so.  
  
"Euh. I ha'e san'."  
  
"Try bein' marooned on it."  
  
"I did, thanks." She spat some out, dribbling. "We're d'sgusting."  
  
"Aint it great?" He cupped her chin and made her look at him. "We're pirates, love. We don' need t'be polite about it."  
  
"True." She slithered closer to him on the sand, so they were nearly touching, and put her bottle to his mouth. "You need mor'rum, you still almos' make sens'." He coughed as liquid poured into his throat.  
  
"Are you tryin' ter kill me?" He snorted some drink out of his nose, spraying the sand, and her. "You need more. You aren't as dirty as me yet." She made a gargling noise as he tipped her onto her back and poured rum into her.  
  
Coughing helplessly, (and messily) she glared at him. "Hate you."  
  
"No you don't." He grinned rakishly. Pouting, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to her.  
  
"Not all the time." She reached her fingers into his hair, providing a cue for him to press his mouth to hers. They were so far gone that the kiss was a messy affair, exchanging sand, rum-flavoured saliva and their tongues immediately. "Damn. I love you."  
  
"At the minute, anyway. That'll do me," he brushed his lips surprisingly gently against her cheek, illiciting a retaliatory bite to his jaw, "Just to check, you are still a woman?"  
  
Instead of answering, she untucked his shirt and slid a hand up to sandily caress his chest. He either took it as a 'yes' or was too far gone to care, as their mouths met again, and everything took on a decidedly debauched air.  
  
*****  
  
Jack awoke to find himself (rather crustily) lying on his own bunk. He had one arm crooked over Ariel, who was awake and staring at him. She had streaks of sandy dirt on all the areas of her visible to him, and he was pretty sure he looked much the same, he could certainly feel sand on his scalp. "Hello, love. I thought you were stealing a ship and leaving?"  
  
"Oh, yes, I just remembered I hate you." She made no effort to move. If she felt anything like he did, she wouldn't want to even think for another few hours yet. Too bad. He cupped her chin again, in almost exactly the same manner he had the night before, examining her grimy face.  
  
"Mmm? Somehow I'm really beginning to doubt your word on many things. For one, your supposed age. It suited you to have the smugglers think you were young, but I'd say you were at least as old as I am. You'll be all wrinkled in a few years, then who'll have you, eh?"  
  
"Anyone, with enough rum. And I'm three years younger than you."  
  
He mentally reeled, although fortunately the connections between his brain and his body were still fairly severed. He'd not thought she was approaching his age in any serious way. "Well then, it's easily time you dropped the weird little girl thing." And to think he'd assumed she'd been a child when they'd rescued him.  
  
"Feh. If it works, why change it?" She flopped slightly more into the bunk's thin mattress, eyes half closing. "Don't see you complaining."  
  
Just to see if his first assumption had been right, he raised a hand to fiddle with her headscarf, almost immediately, she knocked it away. "You've tangled my hair enough."  
  
"That's the same one I gave you years ago, isn't it?"  
  
"Probably, I don't remember-"  
  
"Yes you do. Why'd you keep a scrotty thing like that?" He raised a hand again, she didn't move and he ran his fingers along the scarf. "And why, of all the pirate contacts you must have, did you come to me for help?"  
  
"You were there. I was stuck in some godforsaken port I'd drifted into on a piddling raft, I wanted out, I didn't know if there'd be another half- decent ship for weeks, during which time I might well go mad." She glared briefly at his hand as it finished tracing the scarf and moved down her neck. "And if that even is the same scarf, it was just there." In their somewhat confined position she was unable to move away, trapped as she was on the bunk between the wall of the cabin and him. They both knew she was lying, anyway, trying to get away would just convince him further.  
  
"I'd like to know the real reasons, wench. Right now it seems important."  
  
"Age and rum have made you soft, Sparrow, rolling around on a beach for a night doesn't mean I'm in love with you. How many other beaches, other bottles of rum, d'you think there are in this world?"  
  
"Well, humor me, then." He gave up and moved his hand (previously twiddling a strand of hair that was lying over her bare shoulder) down to encircle her waist and pull her to him. She half-heartedly resisted for a moment, and then flopped rather than curled against him. "I don't doubt the number of drunken encounters that could, will and have taken place in this world, but I'm rather fondly entertaining the idea that last night could be repeated, possibly with less sand."  
  
She stayed absolutely silent and so prone he wondered briefly if she might not be unconcious. "I'm making an idiot of myself, aren't I?"  
  
"'S'alright, there's only me to see, and I've seen you make a fool of yourself enough times that this isn't a highlight." Almost out of boredom, he nibbled at her ear, avoiding the numerous rings though it. "Now, are you ready to tell me anything I should probably hear?"  
  
"You probably shouldn't hear it, frankly, your ego's big enough." Her voice was squashed against his shoulder, her breath misting on his skin. "Alright, yes, it's your headscarf. I kept it originally because you were the first pirate I'd ever really spoken to while sober, and far more interesting than most." She shrugged against him, the way they were pressed together making it seem more like a snuggle. "And then I... admired you. Before I really got myself on my feet as a pirate, I followed you for awhile. You fascinated me, you were a lot like me, and yet so much more. The last bit grated, so I commandeered a vessel and became Blackthorn, terror of the high thingies and cold-blooded queen of the waves. Not for the reason I thought you'd approve, but for the reason that I thought you exactly wouldn't. I'd gone so far beyond piracy and so far into villainy that I was sure you'd hate me. It was exactly my intent. That way, I wouldn't have to see you again and deal with all these complications." Apparently giving up on being a corpse, she slung an arm over his hips. "I wasn't lying when I said I only took your ship because it was there, I frankly would've rather got on one of their crumbling oddities, if I'd thought for a minute it would get me out of the harbour. At least it wouldn't have had you on."  
  
"I'm touched. All that bother, just to avoid meeting me. I feel quite special, you know, you could've just killed me and had done with it."  
  
"You know I couldn't have. I think it's that that makes me hate you so much." Gently, he nuzzled her face towards his and kissed her, not so gently.  
  
"And you called me 'soft.'" He considered the implications of what she'd just confessed (if a confession it truly had been, since she must have known he'd guessed at much of it) and attempted to cajole her hands onto his shoulders, knowing this was probably a hopeless endeavour. "Hmm. That was all very interesting, you know. I think it probably gives last night a few defining features among pirates' escapades. In fact, if you get out of this bunk, I'll be forced to exact hideous punishment, you don't want ol' Jack to be getting up to that kind of thing, do you?"  
  
"I don't know, it might be quite exciting." More of the usual fire came back to her. "Now, why did you just ask me a set of complicated questions first thing in the morning?"  
  
"I would've thought that was obvious."  
  
"Say it, Jack, or the hideous punishment's for you."  
  
"Alright. I like having you on my ship, and would be drooly happy for you not to leave. however, since a mutinous crew and a missing ship is a reasonable incentive for you to do just that, I shall have to take you to find them. Then kidnap you." He wetly kissed her forehead, noticing the agelines distinctly. "So you can either indulge me, or make this trip very difficult."  
  
"Soft, Sparrow. You've gone even more mad, or perhaps become sane." She somewhat fiercely caressed his shoulder and neck with her mouth between every word. "Alright, I'll indulge you but not so long as my ship still exists will you keep me aboard yours."  
  
"Inciting me to commit a violent and unnecesary act on your ship?" Suddenly, she was entirely alert, and fierce.  
  
"Don't you idare!/i If you do, Jack Sparrow, I swear I will destroy this hulk so completely you won't have splinters to float back to land on." He had the sudden impression that she was close to strangling him.  
  
"Alright, love, I wouldn't. From what I've heard, 'tis a fine ship, and I'm not wasteful with them." He sought her gaze, seeing the angrier fires damp down and finally extinguish. "Now, since you aren't going to go out looking for word of your ship again 'till tonight, I believe we have a whole day ahead of us."  
  
She sprang slightly, in surprise, apparently, her head had cleared somewhat. "Oh, yes. I need to see about things, there must be places I could look during the day." Never mind that most of the crew was currently engaged in just that activity, probably with success.  
  
"Not for awhile yet, surely. Tortuga's not even awake at this hour."  
  
"Then why the hell are we?" She flopped backwards, obviously aiming to go back to sleep, feeling the conversation exhausted. He saw it as an opportunity to get her on her back.  
  
"I thought we could probably occupy ourselves." He had intended to simply allow her to lie there, but she seemed to have other ideas, the moment his hands made contact with her skin, her own were urgently against him. "Easy... I thought you were tired?"  
  
"Not that much." Somehow, she managed to completely reverse them, so that he was now on his back, with her lying completely flat out on top of him. "Not comfortable?" No he was not. She attacked his mouth with a vicious kiss that made the source of his discomfort worsen, until she seemed to decide he'd suffered sufficiently and dealt with it.  
  
BStory Or Series Title:/B  
  
BFandom:/B Pirates of the Caribbean  
  
BCulprit Author's Name:/B Grungey, me.  
  
BFull Name (plus titles if any):/B Ariel Blackthorn. (If yer gonna write a Sue, write a bloody iSue/i, dammit... :D BFull Species(es):/B Piratus Wenchus  
  
BHair Color (include adjectives):/B "a tangled mass of dark waves, matted in places and fairly comprehensively covered in dirt." Mmm... pirate- y. Eye Color (include adjectives):/B Doesn't say... presumably dark.  
  
BUnusual Markings/Colorations:/B Hmm... kohl 'round eyes, copying Jack, but apart from that, nowt really. BSpecial Possessions (if any):/B Headscarf made of the ratty end of one of Jack's. (I did at least make her a fangirl...)  
  
BAnnoying Origin:/B God only knows. Smuggler turned pirate. Ooarr!  
  
BAnnoying Connections To Canon Characters:/B Was on the smuggler ship that rescued Jack from the widdle island thingy. BAnnoying Special Abilities:/B Wenchiness. And also appqrently really kewl pirate...  
  
BOther Annoying Traits:/B talks in bad pirate-speak. Eheh.  
  
BPlease include a small sample of the worst of this story:/B 


End file.
